Bigger Than Footwear
by WildMeiLing
Summary: Another Mia moment, but this one has Joe in it. A possibility that came to mind when watching the scene where Joe told Mia about the shoe salesman's inquiry - you know, the wrap-them-or-wear-them line.


_I don't own_ The Princess Diaries _or its characters. I'm just borrowing Mia, Lilly, and Joseph for a quick moment of speculation._

 _So kind of you to stop by and read! I hope you enjoy your time here._

* * *

Mia climbed out of the limo and stopped short. "Oh."

"Is something the matter, Mia?"

Bless Joe. His concern always sounded so sincere. She needed to reassure him it wasn't that big of a deal – well, not a matter of national security or anything. But she didn't want Lilly to know her grandmother was giving her fashion mandates because _that_ would go over like a ton of bricks.

"You go on," she said casually to her best friend.

Lilly wasn't so easily distracted by the coolness of the limousine rides to school or Mia's attempt at an offhand tone, and already suspected there was more to this whole Grandma Situation than fancy carpooling. Her eyes narrowed with solicitude. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll catch up in a minute."

Lilly took a few backward steps away while she assessed the situation, and when she was convinced her friend was truly alright and in good hands, she turned and proceeded to school in a more-or-less forward manner. "Thanks for the ride, Shaft!" she hollered over her shoulder, already a quarter of the way down the block.

Joe had the decency to wait until Lilly was definitely out of earshot before asking again. "Princess?"

She'd meant to stop at the store on the way home the day before. However, by the time Princess Lessons were over for the afternoon and she was free once more, the errand had already moved from the forefront of her mind. Whatever chance she'd had of remembering later on was shot when her mom delivered her parent-teacher conference _date news_.

She gave Joe the condensed version of her predicament. "It's just… I need shoes."

"You seem to be wearing a pair."

She gave him a wry smile. "Madame said she never wanted to see them again."

She knew her choice of address sounded flippant, more so than she intended, but the corners of Joe's mouth twitched anyway.

"I'll drive you home after school and before your lessons so you can change them out."

"Well, that won't really help. I kind of have these. And some sneakers. And some really great Birkenstocks, but those are probably worse."

He nodded once. "Without a doubt." His eyebrows furrowed over his dark glasses. "What size do you wear?"

"Um, eight?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Really? How…?"

"Don't ask questions," he replied with exaggerated gravity. "It's better if you don't know too much."

"Oh my gosh, thanks so much!"

"You are welcome."

She started to walk away, then hesitated.

"Is there something else?" he asked warily.

She turned around and twisted her hands and bit her lip. She had no idea how much her nervous fidgeting made her look like her grandmother when no one else but Joe was around; or how much she looked like her father all the time, but especially when she smiled. In a million years, she would never have guessed that observing those similarities caused Joe's eyes, safely hidden behind dark shades, to mist over unexpectedly.

"It's just, uh… Well, she told me I had to wear stockings."

His jaw clenched and she flinched at the silence between them.

"Stockings," he repeated at last.

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you own any of those either."

"Y-y-yeah…no."

He was quiet a moment longer. "You had better take this job, Princess."

Her face brightened instantly and she gave him a dazzling smile. She had thrown her arms around him before she realized it was probably an inappropriate thing to do. He raised his arms hesitantly, but there was affection in his brief embrace and the pat he gave her back.

"You are the best!"

"Yes, I am. Now go on before you tell me I have to buy hair products or something."

She pulled back and grinned at him. "What's the matter? Not your area of expertise?"

"To school with you, young lady!"

She laughed. "Thanks," she said sincerely. "You really are the best, saving my life with the shoes and all."

He smiled back. "Saving your life is my business."

She laughed again, and as she ran down the sidewalk – hair and skirt and school bag flying – she was suddenly struck with the idea that no one seeing her now would mistake her for royalty.

It was a wonderful feeling.

She could say no, of course, while it was still just about footwear and limousine rides. However, something was already changing. Her perspective was already being tugged and widened, ever so slightly; and her conscience had begun to nag, whispering vague, half-formed thoughts to her that were somehow clear enough to heighten her insecurities and deepen her fears.

But not at the moment. Knowing Joe had her back, she caught up to Lilly and threw her arm around the other girl's shoulders. She breathed freely in this narrow space between the familiar, run-of-the-mill torture that was school and this new agony, looming inescapably like dark clouds on an unknown horizon.

She realized that eventually she would have to face her destiny more fully. She just wished, at the very least, she could do it wearing comfortable shoes.

 _The End_


End file.
